


Drink

by Bannerific (Nellethiel)



Series: Of Science and Soldiers - 100 One-Shots [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Language, Recovery, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Self-Loathing, Sorry Not Sorry, These really aren't oneshots anymore, Tony Stark Has A Heart, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellethiel/pseuds/Bannerific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is really good at drowning himself in guilt. Turns out Tony's a really good swimmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/gifts).



> At this point, I feel I should point out that these works no longer stand alone, and I never really intended it to go this way. But basically, before you read this you should probably at least go back and read the last two works in this series, if not the whole thing. But whatever works for you, my friends.

Bruce hadn’t left his bed in at least a week. Or at least, he thought it had maybe been a week. It had been long enough that the days all ran together into one long blur of guilt, self-loathing, and internal conflict. He had been living on a steady diet of granola bars and bottled water, if only because he wasn’t quite sure (or particularly interested in) what the Other Guy would do if he started to starve to death.

Which is what he deserved.

As far as Bruce was concerned, he deserved nothing more than a slow, painful death, alone and forgotten. It would make life easier for everyone. All he ever did for anyone was fill their life with, at best, inconvenience, and at worst, misery and suffering. Everything in his life turned to ash at his touch, and they were all better off without him.

But he already knew killing himself wouldn’t fucking work. He couldn’t even drink himself into oblivion.

So he lay there. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes crying a little. Mostly just staring blankly at the ceiling and contemplating all his wrongs in life.

Various friends had visited in the first couple of days, trying to persuade Bruce to leave his room, or at least talk to them. He couldn’t bring himself to respond. He didn’t know what he would say if he could say anything at all. After a while, they had all stopped trying.

Could he blame them?

Steve sent him a text when Tony woke up. “He’s awake. Going to be ok.” Every muscle in Bruce’s body relaxed at once; he hadn’t realized how much tension he had been holding. He actually managed a “thank you” in reply, he was so relieved.

Later that day the calls from the hospital started. Bruce was sure it was Tony. He couldn’t bear the thought of trying to speak to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hearing pain and fatigue in Tony’s voice. Pain he had caused. So he ignored the calls for as long as he could, then finally shut his phone off and flung it half-heartedly away.

Bruce really wasn’t sure how many days it had been since then. He was pretty sure he didn’t care. Tony was going to be okay, and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter if Tony was afraid of him now, hated him, never wanted to speak to him again. It just mattered that he was safe.

It didn’t phase the doctor for an instant when someone pounded on his door one afternoon. It didn’t phase him when the noise came again, more insistent. It didn’t even phase him when the person knocking seemed to resort to whacking at the door with some hard object.

What did phase him was when the knocking stopped quite suddenly, there was some thudding and clattering from outside, and a familiar voice spewed forth a stream of groans and profanities.

It was Tony.

Bruce thought maybe he should have figured Tony would eventually come to see him, but he had never considered for a second what he might do when that happened. Suddenly tears were stinging his eyes again, and that horrible tension had engulfed him again. What should he do?

The swearing and carrying on stopped and Bruce received an answer to his unspoken question.

“Damn it, Banner, get out here and help me up!”

In an instant, Bruce was on his feet. He couldn’t ignore Tony’s need. He took a deep breath, then strode forward with purpose and opened the door.

And there he was. Genius billionaire Tony Stark was sprawled on the floor, berating a pair of crutches and massaging his ribs.

“Bruce,” Tony began as he looked up at him, his quarrel with his crutches quickly forgotten, “You look awful.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. He felt suddenly self-conscious, standing there shirtless and unbathed. Even in his sweats and bandages and bruises, Tony still looked like a million bucks. Bruce couldn’t help but feel incredibly inadequate by comparison.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, cutting into Bruce’s thoughts. “That was rude. God, I’m such a dick. Look, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Bruce said, his voice creaking like a rusty door hinge. As he took Tony’s arm, a chill ran through him that made his stomach turn. It was a feeling not unlike handling a very valuable, very fragile piece of art. _What if I hurt him again?_

Tony was returned to his feet without further incident, and an uneasy silence descended over the pair as they stood there in the hall, Bruce avoiding Tony’s eyes, and Tony trying desperately to catch his glance.

Finally, Tony gestured toward Bruce’s open door with one crutch. “Shall we?”

Bruce nodded and wordlessly followed Tony in. Tony eased himself down onto the edge of the bed while Bruce threw on a clean shirt and made the rather futile gesture of running his hands through his hair. He thought for a moment about sitting beside Tony, but opted instead for his desk chair. He didn’t see Tony’s face fall.

“I tried to call,” Tony said as Bruce sat down, kicking aside a couple empty bottles.

“I know.”

“So… you were ignoring me then?” He said it in that casual way he often used when he was trying not to sound hurt.

Again, Bruce was at a loss. Tony wasn’t wrong. But Bruce didn’t want him to think for one second that it was his fault.

“I…” he tried, and failed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow on his desk. “I just… couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t face you, okay?” Bruce said, more forcefully than he intended. Tony didn’t flinch. But Bruce softened his tone. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. None of it is. I just didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Obviously I owe you an apology, but I don’t have words big enough.”

“But you tried to protect me.”

“I know. But I did you more harm than good.”

“So?”

“So?” Bruce repeated, his volume climbing. “So? Tony, you’re my best friend, and I love you, and all I do is hurt you.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not, Tony,” Bruce insisted, his elbows now on his knees. “I can’t keep doing this to you. You deserve someone who isn’t going to stand between you and happiness or safety.” With that, Bruce stood and made for the door. He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be this close to Tony. It would only end in tears. He knew he was being dramatic, but he didn’t care. He had to get away. But Bruce found his path blocked by one of Tony’s crutches.

“Don’t,” Tony said simply.

“I-“

“Don’t,” Tony insisted, withdrawing the crutch and starting to get to his feet.

With a sigh, Bruce turned and gently pushed Tony back down.

“Why not?” he said, dropping rather heavily onto the bed beside Tony.

“Because I need you,” Tony said, as casually as if he’d pointed out that the sky was blue.

“You what?”

“I need you,” Tony said again, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s that simple. Look, I know I’m a genius or whatever, but left to my own devices I do nothing but get into trouble. You keep me in line.” Tony tapped Bruce playfully on the leg. Bruce ignored the gesture.

“You have Pepper for that, Tony,” Bruce informed him. “And any number of other people, if you were willing to listen to them.”

“That’s not the point, Bruce. The point is that I _want_ to listen to you. With you, I never feel obligated. I never feel pressured. I just feel… right. All the time. It’s like…” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s like you’re this incredible intoxicating beverage that has the exact opposite effect of alcohol. And I just want to  drink you up until I overflow.” He waited for a moment for Bruce to respond. When he didn’t, he plunged on. “I know the Other Guy fucks things up sometimes, okay? Let’s not beat around the bush here. Your giant green problem makes life really fucking difficult sometimes.” Tony suddenly stopped and gripped Bruce’s arm tightly. “But this guy? This guy right here? Makes every single moment of it worth it. I mean that. I’d go twenty rounds with the Hulk every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to be with you.”

And with that, the flood gates opened. Bruce fell into Tony’s arms, his shoulders shaking as tears streamed unchecked from his cheeks. He was so tired of fighting. Of being afraid. But Tony wasn’t afraid. Tony loved him. Tony wanted him and wanted to be near him and wasn’t going to let Bruce back out. And Bruce was starting to get the idea that Tony’s strength might just be enough to keep Bruce on his feet, too.

Bruce didn’t remember falling asleep. But what seemed like years later, he awoke, his cheek stuck to Tony’s now-bare shoulder. And as he looked up sleepily at Tony’s peaceful face, he thought that maybe, if he played his cards right, he might get a shot at a second date.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm sorry about the no-longer-oneshots thing. At this point I can't think of a smooth way to change it from a "series" to a "not completed works with chapters and everything" thing. So it is what it is.
> 
> Also I'm sorry it's been like a year and a half since my last work in this fandom. Yikes.
> 
> Alternate summary considered for this work: "No one pity-parties like Bruce Banner. Tony is about to poop on Bruce's party." Decided I couldn't in good conscience use "poop" in the summary for a serious fic.
> 
> Also (last one, I promise) special thanks to Midtime for the prompt and also for being exceptionally encouraging.


End file.
